


Adjustments

by batastrophe



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman Ninja (2018)
Genre: Brothers bonding, Damian...oh boy buddy we'll get you back into character don't worry, Gen, Jason has Issues but I think he'll be okay, Rated T for swears, Time Travel, batfam, batfamily, batman ninja was kinda a weird movie and lacked any sort of characterization but I am Fixing it, brothers bonding about brothers who didn't bond, dick is a bit of a dick, except when it does, father-son bonding, the batfam is a mess, things aren't great for everyone but maybe they're getting there, tim is perceptive and will save us all, time travel doesn't help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 14:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15172475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batastrophe/pseuds/batastrophe
Summary: After a months-long time travel journey to feudal Japan where they were forced to rely upon one another, Batman and his Robins are back in the present. Putting six hundred years between them and their problems really helped ease some tension, but now that they're all back in the present, things aren't nearly so simple.





	Adjustments

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched Batman Ninja last night. It was...interesting. I think I actually liked it overall, if you ignore the fact that many of the batboys were either wildly out of character (*cough Damian*) or had practically no character to speak of (*cough Dick*), and the small fact that a lot of it didn't actually make sense...eh, it's Batman, it's time travel, it's all good. 
> 
> Anyways, here's my strange attempt to inject some character back into those batboys and explain what may have been going through their heads during their misadventure in ancient Japan. If you haven't seen the movie...you're probably fine? There might be a couple confusing references, but just roll with it. Batman. Time travel. Feudal Japan. Fighting. Shenanigans. You get the idea.
> 
> Takes place sometime before N52 but after Dick was in the cowl, and let's just say for the sake of it that he's back to being Nightwing.

Gordon’s eyes were just about popping out of his head—Batman, dressed in some kind of fusion of feudal Japanese armor and a batsuit, had appeared in the middle of downtown Gotham along with similarly attired supervillains Poison Ivy, Penguin, Two-Face, Deathstroke, Bane, Gorilla Grodd, and Harley Quinn and the Joker—not to mention the enourmous mechanized castle that had appeared along with them.

Red Hood watched as Red Robin and Robin corralled Deathstroke and Poison Ivy, respectively; as Nightwing handed over the ropes that bound the villains together to Gordon with a grin; as Robin and Red Robin snickered at the expression on Harvey Bullock’s face, his cigar fallen to the concrete, forgotten; as all three of them bounded away before the Comissioner could stop gaping like a goldfish and ask what in the world had just happened.

Hood hadn’t stuck around for the pageantry, instead slipping away amid the chaos to a nearby rooftop to observe. They were back in Gotham all right—same skyline, same smog. Home sweet home.

Jason rolled his shoulders back. He itched for a cigarette. Funny, he’d barely been craving them during their time travel misadventure, but now that he was back…

Whatever. He’d leave the psychoanalyzing to someone else.

Below him, the Joker was laughing, spittle flying as Bullock manhandled him into a bus, Harley’s own shrieks of laughter setting a sharp counterpoint to his. Just beyond that, he could see the three stooges bounding their way toward him. He turned to go.

“Hood!” called one of them. Red Robin. He’d spent enough time with them the past few months to know. He paused, hell knows why.

“Hood—” said Red Robin again, once they were closer.

“Well, this was fun, kids,” said Jason, not turning around. “Be seeing you.”

He leapt off the roof and didn’t turn back, not even when he could hear Red Robin call his name again.

* * *

“Hood, wait!” called Red Robin. He took a step to follow him, but stopped when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Let him go,” said Nightwing.

“But—”

“Give him some time, Red,” said Nightwing. Red Robin’s shoulders slumped under the weight of Nightwing’s hand.

“I thought that maybe, after all this…” Red Robin paused, watching Hood’s retreating back. “I thought we’d gotten closer.”

“Tt,” said Robin, stepping up to them. “Not likely, knowing Todd.”

“Hey,” said Nightwing, frowning at Robin.

Red Robin took the opportunity to gently push Nightwing’s hand off his shoulder while he was distracted. He glanced sidelong at Robin. He hadn’t heard the kid’s telltale “tt” in so many weeks, he’d nearly forgotten about it. Between all the talking to monkeys and the running around and _smiling_ Damian had been doing when in the past, he’d nearly forgotten what a hellion the kid could be.

“And stop being so sentimental, Drake. It’s an embarassment to both yourself and to me.”

“Robin!” said Nightwing, exasperated.

Red Robin sighed. Back to reality, all right.

In many ways, it was a relief. He’d expected ancient Japan to be different, but the intelligent monkeys had been a bit…unbelieveable. He was looking forward to a good dose of reality and normalcy. Or whatever passed for normal in Gotham.

Robin stalked away from the two of them. “Let’s get out of here. I want to get out of these clothes.”

“Agreed,” said Batman, melting out of the shadows behind them.

Red Robin glanced in the direction Hood had run off in, despite the fact he was long gone.

“Later,” murmered Batman, striding past him. He paused, looking over each of the three of his sons that remained on the rooftop.“Let’s go home.”

* * *

Damian lay in his bed, stiffly. It was late, but not so late by Robin standards, but he was tired anyways. He hadn’t kept such late hours while in Japan, so he was tired. Tired but he couldn’t sleep. He huffed, and Titus huffed sleepily in return, nuzzling up to Damian’s side.

Damian wrapped an arm around his dog, and breathed deeply. This was something he was grateful for—he’d missed Titus deeply while he’d been gone. Titus, of course, had no idea how long the separation had been from Damian’s point of view, but nevertheless had greeted him with near-equal enthusiasm when Damian arrived home. Alfred the cat was curled up on Damian’s pillow on his other side, purring softly. He missed Monkey-Chi.

Damian growled in frustration and turned onto his side, pulling Titus close against him. The dog grumbled in his sleep.

He heard a soft tap on his door, and then a shaft of light fell across his back and Titus’s as the door opened slightly.

“Who is it,” he demanded, even though he felt he already knew. He could tell by the weight of the step.

“Damian,” said his father from the threshold. “May I come in?”

Damian shrugged, not bothering to roll over. He didn’t feel like it.

Father seemed to take that as a yes, and strode forward, pausing next to Damian’s bed. He hesitated for a moment, then sat down on its edge.

“Damian,” said father.

Damian rolled onto his back again, meeting father’s eyes. “What.”

Father quirked a smile, which surprised him. “What?” he asked, sitting up.

“You know, I’d almost begun to miss this about you,” said father. He sounded…fond. Damian huffed.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Father was still smiling. Stupid.

“The sarcasm, the bluntness, the general disrespect…” Damian rolled his eyes. “The eye rolling,” said father. His smile dropped a little. “Damian, are you alright?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” snapped Damian. He didn’t like this. Father didn’t normally talk about…feelings. That was something Grayson usually tried with him. He didn’t like it.

“Damian, look at me,” said father, and Damian, despite himself, looked. “You’re my son. You…you can tell me if something is wrong. I hope you know that.”

Damian looked away, uncomfortable. “Nothing is wrong,” he said. “I’m home. I have Titus, I have my cat, I have my room and my music and my violin back, and electricity, and—”

“Damian.” Father took a breath. “When we were…in the past. I’d…I’d never seen you smile so much. I’d never seen you so happy.” Damian found he couldn’t meet father’s eyes. “…Were you? Happy?”

“Yes,” Damian whispered.

Bruce felt something hollow in him then. He hadn’t been in the past as long as any of his sons. Damian had been happy without him, without patrol, without the manor, without Robin, at least in the conventional sense.

Damian could sense a change in father, and scooted toward him a little. “I was happier, though, once you arrived,” he said softly. He could feel a bit of the tension bleed from his father’s shoulders. “I was…concerned. That you might be lost in time, away from us. Like before. I’m glad you weren’t.”

“I’m glad too,” said Father. He carefully placed one arm around Damian’s shoulders. In the darkness, Damian could only see the shadowed profile of his father’s face against the light from the hallway, but he could still sense the tension in his father’s frame. He knew the conversation wasn’t over yet.

“I…” he began, but wasn’t sure what to say, where to begin. “It was…it was like none of it ever happened.”

Father didn’t speak, leaving Damian room to sort his thoughts.

“It was…nobody knew anything about me, except for Grayson, Todd, and Drake. To everyone else, I was new.”

“A fresh start?” asked father, his voice gentle against the darkness.

Damian paused, letting his emotions settle. “Did you figure out what year it was, that we went back to?” he asked.

Father was steady beside him, like an anchor. “Not an exact year, but I narrowed it down,” he replied.

“Then you know,” said Damian, “when we were…even Grandfather hadn’t yet been born.”

Realization dawned on Bruce, and he held Damian just a bit closer.

“None of it existed. None of it had happened.” Damian found that he was whispering. “And I could pretend that none of it had happened to me.”

Bruce pulled Damian into a hug, and for once, his son didn’t resist him.

* * *

“We shouldn’t have let him go,” said Tim, drumming his fingers against the countertop.

They were in the kitchen in the manor, and Dick was throwing open the cabinets in search of something, goodness knows what. Probably Kronky Crunch.

“I’m going to have to disagree with you on that one, Timbo,” said Dick from within the depths of a cabinet.

“Why?”

“Because, though a part of me hates to say it, Jason is dangerous when he’s upset,” said Dick, pulling his head out of the cabinet. His hair caught on the edge of it and pushed backwards into messy spikes. Tim rubbed a hand through his own hair self conciously. It tended toward the over-long on a good day, but he’d definitely need to cut it back before the next board meeting. Which was…oh god. When was the next board meeting? Tim groaned and put his head in his hands.

He’d been in ancient Japan for eight months, by his reckoning. Jason had been there for longer. Dick had shown up a couple months later, with Damian arriving just a few days after that. It had taken time to find them all, to regroup, but Tim had done it.

At first, he’d had no idea what was happening, or what to do. He’d quickly learned that the villains Poison Ivy, Deathstroke, Penguin, Two-Face, and the Joker had set themselves up as _Daimyos_ , and they were already deeply embroiled in their own politics and wars by the time Tim had arrived. From what Tim could gather, they’d already been in power for over a year before he’d even arrived.

He’d thanked his lucky stars he was passibly fluent in Japanese, but still found it incredibly difficult to get around and communicate. Turns out modern Japanese was different enough from what was spoken six hundred years ago to give him a few headaches. Not to mention the fact that he was clearly an outsider didn’t exactly help things.

But Tim hadn’t wasted his first few weeks in the past—he was already working on finding a way to infiltrate Two-Face’s forces. Two-Face had seemed like the best target—unlike Poison Ivy and Penguin, he employed mostly human fighters, and he wasn’t nearly as savvy or observant as Deathstroke. He was allied with the Joker, and though he could be nearly as volatile, Tim felt his odds of surviving sneaking in amid Two-Faces ranks were higher than sneaking in among the Joker’s—the Joker had an uncanny ability to sniff out Robins, and Tim wasn’t prepared to take that kind of risk, not when he was alone and without allies. But if he got close enough to Two-Face, he might learn crucial information, and maybe would be one step closer to either dismantling Joker’s regime or finding a way back home.

But before he could move forward with that plan, Jason found him.

Tim was making himself look busy as he eavesdropped on a group of men employed by Two-Face—or was trying to, at any rate. A group of _Komusō_ , a branch of wandering zen monks known for their distinct woven hoods, were standing on the street corner playing their _shakuhachi_ flutes. It was making it difficult to hear.

Tim frowned, and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Now that’s not very Zen-like of you,” remarked a voice from behind him. Tim’s eyes widened and he spun around. It was one of the _Komusō_ , only this one’s hood was dyed red. Unusual, but what was even more unusal was that he had addressed Tim in English.

Tim’s eyes flicked over the man, assessing. It…couldn’t be…but…“Jason?” he asked.

“Right in one,” replied the hooded man. Jason.

“What are you doing here?” Tim whispered furiously. “I thought—”

“I was at time-travel-mind-fuck ground zero too, Replacement,” drawled Jason. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Tim had to admit, Jason’s idea to dress as a _Komusō_ hadn’t been a terrible one, even if his style was a bit unconventional. The _Komusō_ were free by law to travel anywhere in Japan, no questions asked. The disguise gave Jason the ability to go anywhere he pleased and learn just about anything he needed to know. It was why, once they’d discovered the Ninja clan and Dick and Damian had arrived, that Jason had been their scout and spy. But what Dick didn’t really realize, was that Jason hadn’t made himself nearly as scarce before he’d arrived. When it had just been the two of them, Jason hadn’t been quite as keen to disappear.

Tim shook himself back into the present. Dick had resumed his hunt for sugary cereals.

“I think you’re underestimating him,” said Tim.

Dick turned to glare at him again. “Look, I know Jason’s made great strides toward redemption, but I haven’t forgotten the number of times he’s nearly killed you, even if you seem to have. And you know what all those times had in common? Jason was hurting. We should leave him alone until he’s calm enough not to shoot anybody. Trust me.”

Tim rolled his eyes in frustration. “You weren’t there, Dick. We spent a lot of time together before you and Damian showed up.”

“Yeah, and he couldn’t wait to get away as soon as we did,” Dick muttered, closing the cabinet door in defeat. “Look,” he said, turning to face Tim. “I may not have been there then, but you weren’t around either for a long time.” Tim stiffened, taken aback.

“I only left because—”

“I know,” said Dick, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Look, we’re all tired. It’s been a long…a long time. Maybe we should just settle into being in the future again—”

“No, I want to hear what you were going to say,” said Tim, crossing his arms. He was pretty pissed off. He was surprised at Dick—he wasn’t normally the type to push someone away when they were hurting.

Dick deflated. “Look, I really am sorry, okay? For all of it.” Tim didn’t uncross his arms. “Okay, fine,” said Dick, running a hand through his hair and smoothing it down into place. “When you were gone…when you were looking for Bruce,” he amended. “And when Damian had just become Robin.” Tim clenched his jaw. “And…look. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you back then. After this misadventure, it’s suddenly a lot easier to believe that somebody could be lost in time.”

Despite himself, Tim snorted. Dick cracked a smile.

“You…you were pretty quiet, actually,” said Tim carefully. “The whole time we were in Japan.”

Dick shrugged. “It got me thinking, I guess. What it must have been like for Bruce. Got me thinking about that whole time he was gone. Not having him around again—it reminded me of when I was Batman.

“Jason really had it out for us then. For me,” he said, resting his arms on the countertop. “I was Batman, and I made some calls that I felt Batman would make. Things escalated.” Dick tapped his fingers on the countertop nervously. “In hindsight, some of them were calls I probably shouldn’t have made. Jason wasn’t in a good place. But…neither was I.” Dick chuckled sourly. “None of us were, really.” Tim shrugged one shoulder, not meeting Dick’s eyes. It was true though. It had been a bad time, for just about everybody.

“For a hot minute, Jason went full-fledged super villain on us.” Tim shrugged; he had known that. He’d read the file, he wasn’t a stupid. He’d been there for some of it.

“He’s changed since then.”

“He’s _calmed down_ since then,” corrected Dick. “Maybe I’m biased, but the things he did then? I may have forgiven him, but I sure as hell haven’t forgotten. And this whole thing…it’s not helping me forget.”

Tim frowned. He didn’t like this side of Dick, the side that wasn’t immediately ready to welcome someone home. “You still see him as a villain, don’t you? Even after the past few months? Even after all the help he gave us in Japan?”

Dick turned away. “I’m trying not to,” he muttered, walking toward the door. He paused on the threshold, his hand gripping the doorframe beside his head. “I’m not proud,” he said quietly, and sighed. “Tim…just be careful, okay? I’m serious.”

“I will,” Tim replied.

Dick patted the doorframe decisively, nodding to himself. “Alright. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning.”

* * *

Jason ripped the _tengai_ from his head and threw it onto the floor, shaking his hair out. He combed his fingers through the strands, pushing his overgrown bangs back from his forehead. His fingers fumbled the straps of his sandals off, and then threw them across the room as well.

Fucking time travel. Fucking ancient Japan. Fucking Batman, fucking Joker.

Christ.

He flipped open his laptop and checked the date, and sighed. Despite spending months in the past, they’d arrived back on the same night they’d left.

Just as well. If he had his way, he’d like to forget the time spent in the past had happened at all. Ancient history. Let it get swallowed by time and distance and fade from everyone’s memories.

If only it were that easy.

Jason opened his armory and grabbed two handguns and slid down the wall next to his cache, clutching the guns tightly, the smooth, cool metal against his palms like a balm.

It was all so fucking familiar. Batman, stopping him from killing the Joker. Again. His urgent warnings, ignored, again. The Joker returning to wreak havoc and kill more people, again. It all ending with Joker restrained, on his way to Arkham, laughing the laugh that haunted Jason’s nightmares, again, and again, and again.

Even a six-hundred-year journey to the past hadn’t changed a damn thing. Same song and dance, over and over and over.

It was only a matter of time until it happened again, and he wasn’t sure how many times he could stand it.

Jason wasn’t sure how long he sat like that, back to the wall, a gun clenched in each fist, the Joker’s laugh echoing in his mind. He’d managed to keep his head on reasonably straight while they were still on the mission, but it was all catching up to him now, and he’d needed to be someplace familiar, someplace safe, or at least as safe as anyone in Gotham could be when the Joker was still breathing.

Jason heard a noise and reacted, drawing his guns and cocking them at the figure in the window before he had a chance to register the thought.

“Whoa, cool it, Jason!” said a voice, and Jason barely stopped himself from pulling the trigger.

Red Robin was clambering through his window, a bit clumsily, since his hands were in the air. He was back in his regular uniform rather the one he’d adopted while they were trapped in ancient Japan.

Jason was tense, and he couldn’t make himself lower the guns.

“Chill Jason, it’s just me,” said Tim, not coming any closer. “I come in peace, and all that.”

Jason forced his arms to obey, stiffly lowering the weapons. He couldn’t make his voice work.

Tim began moving again, slowly, like he was approaching a wild, dangerous animal. _Might as well be_ , Jason thought distantly. He hadn’t felt this fucked up in a long time.

Tim pulled his cowl back, a few strands of hair sticking up with static. It was still long—he hadn’t had time to get a hair cut yet—but it was out of the ponytail he’d been wearing it in the past few months. He glanced at the partially crushed _tengai_ lying on the floor, and the robe Jason was still wearing. “You haven’t changed yet,” he observed.

Jason’s jaw clenched, he swallowed. “What time is it,” he said.

“Just after four in the morning,” said Tim, drawing closer. “We arrived back around 10pm,” he added.

Jason stared at the floor numbly. By that account, he’d probably been sitting here for at least four hours, maybe longer. Not good.

“Everyone got home safely,” said Tim, easing himself up to the wall and sitting down next to Jason. “Alfred was dressed so similarly to usual that he was able to just take a cab home. The rest of us went by rooftop.” Tim paused, but Jason didn’t respond. “Catwoman disappeared right afterward, but knowing her, she’s probably fine. I’m sure we’ll see her again soon.

“All the villains are in Arkham—” Jason’s fists clenched around his guns again, and Tim stopped talking abruptly.

Tim wasn’t sure what had happened when Batman had gone to meet Jason after he located the Joker and Harley. He felt like he had a better idea now.

“Did you try to kill him?” he asked quietly.

Jason didn’t respond, and Tim was beginning to think he wasn’t going to. He gazed at the wall opposite from them, and when Jason spoke, his voice was rough.

“What do you think?”

Tim exhaled quietly, weighing his next words carefully.

“I think,” he began slowly, “that some things are better left in the past.” He stood, and offered a hand to Jason. “Including that outfit,” he said wryly.

Jason felt tense, stretched, and raw. He felt hurt, he felt angry, he was tired of being _right_ and of being ignored and condemned for it.

He felt like he didn’t want to be alone right now.

“You’re going to have to put at least one of those down,” said Tim, waggling his hand at Jason.

Jason released his grip on one of the guns, and reached out and gripped Tim’s hand, and let the younger man help him to his feet.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I'm not actually sure what year they were sent back to, but the Komusō were active in Japan starting sometime in the 13th century, so I figure six hundred years is plausible. So much of the movie was frankly implausible that I figure it doesn't really matter too much anyhow. Let's just all have fun and accept the absurdity. I mean, it's not that much more absurd than your average Batman comic, so I'm willing to roll with it. Even Damian's intelligent pet monkey. (Damian's love for animals was just about the only recognizable thing about him in that movie, smh.)
> 
> Oh, also, I refuse to believe all the batboys were stuck in Japan for two years before Batman showed up. I can't believe Damian would do that much growing up while away from home. So, despite that Selina was there two years, I adjusted the timeline for everyone else. I also refuse to believe that all four of them would have been there as long as the villains and just...let them take over Japan. Nah. Wouldn't've happened. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed, and if you did, please consider leaving a comment! :)


End file.
